


Almost

by Walkinrobe



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-11
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-12 17:22:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 17,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22665028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Walkinrobe/pseuds/Walkinrobe
Summary: A quick trip to Vancouver has the greatest ice dancers of all time reconsidering their life choices.A little frolic into the unknown... Almost.
Relationships: Scott Moir/Tessa Virtue
Comments: 203
Kudos: 279





	1. The plane

March 2020

The plane is stuffy. Tessa’s been sitting in her seat for less than five minutes but she can already taste the crud from the recycled air as it rains down from the circular vent above her head. She should never have watched that documentary about how plane air is a combination of putrid dead skin cells, the tears of the delayed and lingering germs from five flights worth of previous passengers. 

He’s supposed to be here but he’s late. She’s discovered, over the past few months, that it’s one of his least endearing qualities. But it’s OK, that quality is significantly outweighed by his charm, his arm muscles and his ability to make her snort with laughter. 

She’s texting him when she feels a familiar hand on her shoulder. She doesn’t even look up. She knows. Scott.

‘Hey, I’m glad you’re here, two secs,’ she says before finally turning to smile once she hits send. 

‘Tee, how you doing?’ he leans down to kiss her cheek, squeezing her shoulder in his usual way. 

She looks past him to say hello to his fiancé. But he’s alone. 

‘Yeah, I’m great. You?’ 

‘Can’t complain,’ he catches her eye as it searches the plane for the other woman. ‘She can’t make it,’ is all he offers. 

She knows better than to push, so she just nods in response. 

Her phone pings in her hand. She holds up a finger as a signal for Scott to give her a minute. 

’’Sorry Babe, crap news, I can’t make the flight. Had a head clash at training. Am OK but Docs won’t let me travel. So Disappointed. You’ll be amazing, wish I could be there to applaud. And for afterwards. xxx’’

She bites her lip and swallows her own disappointment. Shit. She wanted him there. Looking to Scott she sees him raise his eyebrows to question what’s happened? 

‘Training accident. He can’t travel’.

Scott gives a grimace. But not before a flicker of relief flashes across his face. 

Interesting. She can’t help but feel smug that she caught it. She also hates that she cares enough to feel smug. 

They may not be Virtue & Moir anymore but they are still Scott and Tessa. 

*

He just wants to get through this weekend without being a moody asshole. Without drinking too much beer. Without sending snarky texts. 

He just wants to get through this weekend without the media prying into his private life. Without asking about his wedding. Without new photos of him and Tess being splashed all over the Internet, rekindling public interest in Virtue & Moir.

He just wants to figure out what the fuck he’s supposed to do with his life. Without pressure from his family. Without breaking anyone’s heart...

*

She once said, in an interview a year or so ago, that they didn’t sit next to each other on planes. 

But that’s a lie. 

What’s a bit of revisionist history between friends, eh? 

They’ve sat next to each other more often than not. Like right now. After Scott stashed his carry on luggage into the overhead locker and settled in next to her. 

For the first two hours they catch up. It’s almost easy. Almost like the old days. Almost.

Almost... she fucking hates that word.

Scott makes her giggle and she tells him stories about work and Jordan and her brothers. His eyebrows make all the right shapes for her to know he’s really listening. And he’s happy to listen.

He talks about golfing and shooting and hows he has become a dab hand at MYOB. About how Ilderton was infected with a rabid plague of head lice and people almost lost their minds. He is animated and relaxed and engaging and delightful and beguiling. And almost his old self.

Almost...

She realises how much she misses him. 

Wait. 

That’s revisionist history too. 

She knows how much she misses him. She just doesn’t want to admit it. Except she does. To him.

‘I’ve missed you,’ she says quietly. 

‘Yeah?’ he tilts his head and gives her a fond smile. 

She nods.

‘Missed you too, Kiddo’.

*

Four hours into the flight and Tess has been absorbed in her uni work for the past 45 minutes while he strains under the weight of his own thoughts. 

He feels nervous. 

He feels agitated.

He feels self-reproach. 

He feels hungry.

He feels desperate to get off this fucking plane.

*

‘Enough,’ she places her hand on his arm, ‘I can feel the discontent leaching out of you. It’s poisoning my ability to concentrate. Is this about our speech? Do you want to go over it again?’

She swings her head into his space, pulling a stupid face before poking him in the ribs.

He shakes his head and gives a subtle but affectionate eye roll, ‘It’s not that. You know I don’t mind speaking’. 

‘OK. You want to talk about it?’

He looks her dead in the eye. A challenge. She’s tempted to bite... almost. Almost. 

But not enough. So she says nothing.

He finally responds. 

‘Nope,’ he declares.

That’s that, then.

*


	2. The Car

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They survive the plane trip only to have to endure the car.
> 
> Which is a very... er... hard situation for Scott.

They blaze through the hotel room door in a molten mess of grabby fingers and thirsty kisses. 

This is not how Scott imagined their first fuck. Not by a long shot. He thought it’d start with longing looks and soft touches. He thought they’d have some version of ‘the talk’ before easing into slow kisses and sweeping hands.

To be honest, he thought they’d be way, way better coordinated. 

He had no idea it’d be so fucking messy. But so fucking hot. Like, off the charts kinda hot. Like, how the hell did it escalate to this point so quickly kinda hot? Like, he’s currently saying ten Hail Marys he doesn’t embarrass himself kinda hot.

‘How you travelling?’ she whispers in his ear.

‘I’m silently praying I don’t come in my pants,’ he says as he pushes her against the wall. 

She doesn’t say anything but gives a delighted, soft chuckle. 

‘How are you?’ he asks while he strips her t-shirt off and throws it onto the desk behind them. 

My God, she is achingly beautiful. He wants to look everywhere at once.

‘I don’t want you to be gentle,’ she says, removing his t-shirt and tossing it towards the desk but coming up short.

‘OK,’ he hums. He did not see that coming. He is not unhappy about it. 

The sound of his belt buckle clinking and zipper unfurling makes him transcend to a higher plane. 

This.

Is.

Really.

Happening. 

‘Tee,’ he exhales as Tess slides his boxers down his thighs and wraps her sublime hands around him. She sinks to her knees and stares him dead in the eye as she consumes his cock, daring him not to look away. 

Challenge accepted.

Watching her is hypnotising. 

And the exact fantasy he used in the vast majority of his masturbatory shower sessions circa 2016-2018. All he can do is look down as his hips pitch involuntarily forward into her mouth. 

It’s like an out of body experience.

Almost...

She snakes a hesitant hand between his legs before ghosting her fingers over his balls and up the soft skin of his perineum. 

Shit. That feels inconceivably good. He groans in appreciation.

She quickly pulls off his cock and bites the side of her lip, titling her head to the side like she does when she’s about to ask a question. 

‘Would you like me to slide my finger into your ass?’ she breathes as her hand steadies against him.

What the actual fuck? How the hell did she know he likes that? He gives a slow, firm nod. 

She gives a sly smile and mouths, ‘I know you’ before her mouth engulfs his cock again. Her finger restarts it exquisite journey. 

Almost...

Because that’s that. 

The pure anticipation of her finger’s final destination is his undoing. He loses the fight and comes instantly. Magnificently. In her mouth.

Tess’ eyes go wide. Clearly, she was not expecting things to move so quickly. 

He knows the feeling. 

She opens her mouth and his cum spills from her lips soaking him in a wet warmth...

... His eyes flash open as the realisation of what has just happened and the potentially catastrophic consequences smoother him in dread.

He fell sleep.

In the cab.

With Tess.

On the way to their hotel in Vancouver.

And just had a unbelievably hot dream.

About Tess.

That made him come in his pants.

Jesus fucking Christ. 

Is it 2003?

He’s almost too scared to look up. Thank fuck he’s wearing his sunglasses. He slowly raises his eyes and sees Tess in the seat directly in front of him. She’s laughing, deep in conversation with their driver. 

Then he looks down and sees the revealing stain on his jeans. 

Fuuuuuuuuuck.

He says another ten Hail Marys that he is the only one that can smell his spunk.

What a bullshit situation this is. He grabs his coat and draws it over his lap. 

‘Oh, yeah, absolutely! We’d be really happy to do that, right Scott?’ Tess says genuinely. 

Huh?

‘Sorry Tee, I dozed off for a minute there. Would you mind saying that again?’

‘Rob was just saying that his daughter is a skating fan and he wondered if we wouldn’t mind a photo when we get to the hotel’. 

He’s momentarily bamboozled, who is Rob? Then his mind catches up to his ears and he works out Rob is their driver.

‘Sure, of course, we’d love to. Tell us about your daughter, Rob’.

Rob chats inanely about his daughter for the next few minutes and he takes the chance to discreetly wrangle on his coat, fastening the buttons to cover his sperm soaked jeans. 

At this stage he is more desperate to get out of the car than he was to get off the plane.

*

When they arrive at the hotel Scott is behaving oddly. She can’t figure out why. He babbles through the fan photo the driver wanted, awkwardly manoeuvring her in front of him instead of standing side by side like they have for every other photo of the past twenty plus years.

After he checks-in to their hotel he turns and gives her a quick nod before excusing himself and dashing off to the elevator. He doesn’t even look back to smile. 

Finally, once she’s settled in her own room, reading the stupidly over priced room service menu and drinking the even more stupidly over priced wine from the mini bar, she gets a text from him:

‘Dinner?’

‘What is ‘The evening meal?’ she types back.

Immediately, her phone starts ringing.

‘I’m sorry for being weird this afternoon, just had a lot on my mind and wanted a shower and change of clothes,’ he blurts without any introduction.

‘That’s OK,’ she responds, moving to the window to look out at the twinkling lights of Vancouver.

‘Let’s have some dinner,’ he suggests. ‘Something low key and quiet. Here in the hotel. Maybe even room service’.

Room service is something they’ve shared more times than she can count. But she thinks it’s more than that. He doesn’t want to be seen with her. That hurts.

‘Room service it is. I’m 1808. Can you come here? I can’t be arsed putting on some proper clothes. I’m in my PJs’.

‘I’m sure some of your more rabid fans would be ecstatic to photograph a PJ clad Tessa Virtue roaming a hotel corridor,’ he laughs. The word ‘rabid’ stings her ears. ‘Wait. Did you say 1808? Does your room have one of those interconnecting doors?’

She flicks her eyes away from the window back towards the desk against the wall opposite the bed, ‘Yep,’

‘Unlock it and open it,’ he instructs. 

She knows where this is going, so she’s not at all surprised to see Scott when she opens the door linking their rooms.

‘TESSA VIRTUE???? Fancy seeing you here!’ he says with mock surprise.

‘SCOTT MOIR - THE ICE DANCER??? What are the chances?’ she plays along with a look and voice of faux amazement.

It’s the same silly routine they’ve performed every time they’ve ever had interconnecting hotel rooms. Which has been a lot. 

She has a pang of regret in her chest.

She misses him. 

She misses him. 

She misses him.

Shit. She just... really misses him.

‘This is like old times,’ he wiggles his eyebrows.

Almost... she thinks. 

*


	3. The Dinner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lotta wine = A lotta trouble

Tessa didn’t mean to drink so much wine. They have a speaking event tomorrow and it’s not her style to have a big night before a work gig. Definitely not a work event that’s being live-streamed to all and sundry. And especially not one that requires Kelly to start doing her hair at 6:15am.

But they decided to finish off the wine from her mini-bar while waiting for their room service. The room service that took an inordinately long time to arrive. So, they cracked open the wine from Scott’s mini bar while they continued to wait. When their meals finally arrived they got a complimentary bottle of wine to apologise for the delay. 

Wine. Wine. Wine. 

The cheeky sibling of bad decisions. 

Despite being only half bottles they’ve downed maybe four glasses each, she can’t really recall, which is how she finds herself a little loose and fancy free with her responses when Scott starts asking the questions she knows he’s been dying to ask all night.

‘So, I’m, ah, very much looking forward to meeting him. How’s it all going?’ he asks, clunking his knife and fork onto his plate in a way that screams ‘Drunk! Drunk! Drunk!’

And so it begins. 

They’ve just finished their entrees. She’d had her money on this topic coming up during dessert. She’s momentarily distracted as she eyes her key lime pie resting invitingly on the room service trolley. 

Pie. Pie. Pie. 

She can’t wait to devour it. 

‘You were going to meet him today but...’ she trails off.

‘Is he badly injured?’

‘He’s fine. Understandably, they’re very cautious with their $30 million investments,’ she shrugs. 

She feels embarrassed seeing Scott’s heavy swallow at her mention of the insane amount of money her boyfriend makes. She knows her point was unnecessary. Moreover, she knows better than anyone Scott isn’t motivated by money.

‘What’s he like?’

‘He’s kind. He always means what he says. He’s great company. He loves his family. He makes an effort with my friends,’ the words roll off her tongue like a well worn shopping list. 

Scott nods and gives her a sad smile. 

‘Is it serious?’ he enquires softly as he looks directly over her right shoulder. 

That question makes her mad. The alcohol driving her brain into Cranky Town. Why can’t Scott man the fuck up? If he’s gonna ask that, than at least he should have the balls to look in her eyes. She can’t help the sigh of disgust that puffs past her lips. 

‘Did I ask the wrong thing?’ Scott asks earnestly. 

‘Not at all,’ she pretends. 

‘Well is it? Is it serious?’ he repeats slowly. This time he looks her straight in the eye. He pushes his chair back and places his elbows on the table, his fingertips resting on his forehead.

‘Why do you want to know?’ she shoots back. It’s the alcohol talking. She’s in defensive mode, sitting right back against the chair with her arms crossed. 

‘Are you upset with me?’ Scott asks incredulously, pushing off the table, crossing his own arms to mimic her body language. 

She can only give a snarky response, ‘I don’t think you’re truly interested in the answer to that question. Are you?’

‘What the fuck are you talking about?’ he moans, ‘I don’t ever want you to be upset with me’. 

Well, that escalated quickly.

*

Maybe he’s drunker than he realises. Because he’s having real trouble working out why Tess has moved into full-blown attack mode. Which is a ridiculously mild version of most other people’s attack mode. But he knows her better than anyone, and he can see there’s some monumental issue simmering under the surface, like an iceberg ready to sink this dinner into a deep shithole.

If there’s one thing they excel at, well ‘’excelled’ at - past tense - besides ice dancing, it is/was passive aggressive emotional warfare. 

It’s at this point that it dawns in him that they haven’t been alone since the morning of their last Rock The Rink performance, when they got up early and snuck in some practice before the scheduled group rehearsal time. 

That morning had not gone the way he wanted. 

‘It’s not serious,’ Tess say with a faked calmness. ‘But it has potential’. 

He’s surprised by the flood of relief that swells his veins. He knows he shouldn’t feel this way. But the comfort is real. 

‘I’d be very grateful if you could tell me why you’re upset with me,’ are the next words to leave his mouth. It’s like he’s on wine-induced autopilot, all those emotional synapses built during their sessions with JF crackle to life and direct his mouth to say things he wouldn’t otherwise. 

But then the same thing happens to Tess, a Pavlovian response, and she immediately responds with, ‘I’m upset because you make me feel hurt and confused’. 

‘I don’t ever want to make you feel like that,’ he says reaching for Tess’ hand.

*

Scott reaches out his hand like a delayed peace offering. But she’s not having it. 

‘You may not want to make me feel that way, but you do. It makes me cross with myself you still do,’ she’s very impressed with how strong her voice sounds. Score one for the wine! 

‘Can you tell me why?’ he asks. She can tell he’s got his shackles up by the inflection of his voice 

‘I can tell you why,’ she affirms. Score two for passive aggressive warfare. 

‘Will you please tell me?’ he says through his teeth. 

‘Are you going to be able to listen and react with some emotional intelligence?’ 

Scott rolls his eyes, ‘I’ll do my Canadian best’.

‘After years of listening to you drone on about the importance of working on our relationship, you completely disappeared when it needed work the most!’ she yells.

Scott sits there. 

Silent.

‘You got engaged. But you didn’t tell me. I found out from my sister after she saw it on social media. Before that, you basically claimed you couldn’t skate with me and have a successful romantic relationship. But you didn’t tell me. I found out in the middle of my podcast with Ana. And you completely gave up on our business partnership, midway through the plan we made together, and I still have no idea of the real reason why,’ she waves her arms around in a way that she will admit is rather uncoordinated and skittish. 

Scott sits there.

Silent.

‘Do you have a response to that?’ she finally prompts. 

*

Does he have a response to Tessa’s questions? Of course he has a response to that.

He fucked up. 

Repeatedly.

He takes a huge swig of wine and starts talking, ‘I should have told you I was getting married. That was wrong. I am sorry I hurt you. I can’t imagine how pissed off I’d be if you got engaged and didn’t tell me. To be honest I don’t even know why I didn’t. I think, maybe, I was keeping you separate from that side of my life’.

‘But why?’ he can tell Tess is getting frustrated, her eyes are getting shiny with tears, the way they have since she was a kid. 

‘For the same reason I told Ana that I didn’t think I could have a relationship while we skate. And you know why that is Tee, please don’t play games’.

Please. Please. Please. 

Tess looks down at her hands before looking up with teary eyes. 

Silent. 

Staring. 

Waiting for him to continue. 

‘I can only talk for myself, but I know that none of my relationships have worked out when we have been skating. And it’s because nothing I’ve ever had off the ice comes even close to what you and I have on the ice. Not even remotely close. On the ice is fire and feeling and electricity and joy and connection. It’s about you and I. And it’s real. It’s real for me. I want to touch you like that. Dancing with you is beyond words. I know it doesn’t translate to off the ice for you, that we’ve talked about that with JF. So, it’s not fair for me to be in a relationship with someone and still feel that way about you when I go to work. That’s not fair to her, or me. Or you’.

‘Scott...’ Tess breathes as her tears fall.

‘That is why I wanted to retire and pulled the plug on our touring. I don’t want to live an on-ice/off-ice hybrid life anymore’.

‘Scott...’ Tess repeats, reaching her hand out to grabs his where it still sits on the table. 

‘I’m sorry my decisions hurt you. That wasn’t my intention. I needed to employ a self preservation strategy,’ he smiles shyly, squeezing her hand, ‘Fuck Tee, I still do. I still wish you weren’t the one that got away, yeah?’

Confession. Confession. Confession. 

Suddenly, he’s feeling very sober. 

‘All of a sudden, I’m feeling very sober,’ Tess states.

He can’t help but laugh at their synchronicity. 

‘I know the feeling,’ he chuckles.

‘I wish you’d told me this earlier,’ she implores. ‘I feel like you’ve made decisions for us, for me, without asking me what I wanted’.

‘What do you mean?’ he asks, confused. 

What. 

The. 

Ever-loving.

Fuck.

Does.

She.

Mean?

He heart rate picks up.

‘We talked to JF about this in 2017. Three years ago. So many things happened since then. Things have changed since then. I’ve changed since then’.

And there it is.

What he wanted.

Almost...

Hope.


	4. The Dessert

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fuelled by wine, dinner barrels forward into dessert. 
> 
> And some significant home truths.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello fanfic family
> 
> I hope you are all safe and well.
> 
> Please take care of each other.
> 
> Hang in there everyone. If you’re feeling like you need a chat you’re welcome to DM me via Twitter any time! 💕💕💕
> 
> Robe xxx

‘I mean, just what I said,’ Tess says sadly. 

She looks at him in a way she hasn’t looked at him in a very long time - an exasperated combination of fondness and irritation. 

‘I’m sorry Tee, you really have to spell this out for me. I need to understand what you’re saying,’ he thinks he sounds calm. Maybe slightly on the panicked side of calm? 

Tess gets up from the table, shucks off her hotel slippers and grabs her key lime pie off the room service trolley before gracefully dropping onto the couch. 

Suddenly, he’s sitting at the opposite end of the couch but he’s not really sure how he got there. 

Maybe he’s hasn’t sobered up as much as he thought. 

Maybe his brain has engaged it’s fight or flight response because it thinks his whole future is teetering on the outcome of this conversation. 

Holy shit. Is his whole future teetering on the outcome of this conversation? 

Tess gives him a small smile, then takes a huge bite of pie, ‘Can we just cut through all the bullshit?’ 

She must still be a little bit tipsy if she’s talking with her mouth full. 

‘Please,’ he nods.

‘Those last twelve months leading up to PyeongChang and the three months afterwards, that was the best time of my life. Things between us, they were better than ever before, weren’t they? I felt connected to you, deeply connected and there was a momentum building to something...,’ her eyes flick down to her pie then back up to his, ‘... more?’

He gasps. 

Out loud.

What?

What? 

WHATTTTTTTTTTTT?

Despite his fight or flight response being heavily engaged, he has immense clarity about how to respond to Tess’ statement. Or maybe it’s not despite his flight or flight response, but because of it. 

‘I felt all those things too,’ he affirms. 

Shit, he wants to reach out and take her hand. Desperately. He wants to desperately ground themselves like they do on the ice. 

So he does...

Almost.

Because he’s not sure she wants that. He needs to be respectful about the fact she’s seeing someone. He doesn’t want to misstep.

‘Then why didn’t you say anything?’ she asks in a small, unsure voice.

He can’t help but give a quiet chuckle.

‘Because I’ve felt that way since since 2015. Every day since we decided to come back to skating. I meant what said about about self-preservation. Me wanting you, in every way it matters, has been my business as usual method of working for a very long time. There was no use in saying anything when I knew you didn’t feel the same way’.

*

Oh my God, she wants to kill Scott.

She really does. 

Thank fuck he has the decency to look sheepish. 

‘But that’s not right!’ she she states very firmly, delivering one of her Tessa-Virtue-Scott-Moir-Focused-Death-Stares (trademark pending).

‘The last conversation, fuck, the ONLY conversation, we ever had about on-ice/off-ice dynamics was back in early 2017’. She slams her last spoonful of pie into her mouth. ‘Jesus! Couldn’t you feel things changing between us?’ she mumbles through her food. 

This may be the most significant discussion they’ve had in twenty-two years but she can still appreciate the deliciousness of this pie. She mustn’t have sobered up as much as she thought. Or maybe this pie really is that good.

‘I feel like you’re missing my point,’ Scott runs his hands through his hair. ‘I intentionally avoided thinking about things changing. Avoided reading into anything. I felt the changes, I wanted to read into it, more than anything, but I needed to keep my sanity’.

It’s not a penny dropping moment for her. 

It’s like a million dollar deluge. 

‘You wanted it that badly?’ her spoon clatters onto the plate, her eyes wide.

‘I didn’t want it that badly’.

Huh? He didn’t want it? She’s confused. What’s he’s been saying this whole conversation? Has she misunderstood? 

Stupid wine. 

(But good pie).

She furrows her brow and softly shakes her head to communicate a silent ‘What the fuck?’ 

He inches forward and takes her hand, squeezing it in a way he’s done since she was seven years old. 

It feels so right. She loves to hold his hand. 

‘Tee, I didn’t want it that badly. I wanted YOU that badly’.

That sucks all the air out of her lungs.

Almost.

*

‘I think I’m going to throw up,’ Tess forces her hand over her mouth.

‘You OK?’ he releases her hand to pass her a napkin.

‘It’s the wine. And the pie. But mostly the wine. And the sinking feeling that we missed our chance. We missed our chance. Did we miss our chance?’

It sinks in. 

Tess cares they missed their chance.

Have they really missed their chance? 

He gives another gentle chuckle. 

‘I dunno. The pie looked pretty good to me. Be kind to the pie, I think it’s kinda blameless in this situation’. 

‘I wanted you too,’ Tess bites her lip, ignoring his joke. ‘I wanted you too. So much. And now it’s too late’.

She looks deflated.

Weary.

‘You did?’ he gives a tight smile, his heart breaking a little. ‘That makes me happy. It also makes me yearn for a DeLorean’.

‘I’m loving your reference to my favourite movie. But sadly, not helpful,’ she puts her plate and spoon on the side table. 

Tess abruptly stands up from the couch. She bangs her hip on the room service trolley as she walks towards the door that separates their rooms.

Where the fuck is she going? She can’t leave in the middle of this conversation.

‘Hey,’ he jumps up and strides the four short paces to where she standing, ‘We need to finish this conversation. Don’t leave’.

As she turns around he can see she’s crying. It makes his heart hurt, he didn’t want to upset her like this.

‘Oh my God! The irony of you wanting to talk about it now! Whats the use? What’s there to talk about? We weren’t honest with each other when it mattered. Our moment has passed. While I worked up the courage to tell you how I felt you moved on. And she’s lovely. She adores you. I don’t begrudge you that. I’m happy that you found her,’ Tess shudders. Lying.

He can’t help himself, all the conflicting emotions overwhelm him and without thinking he tugs Tess into into their pre-skate hug. They haven’t done it in four months but they both slip into each other’s arms. The way her head rests on his shoulder is just so, so, so... Tess-like.

They stand in silence, the only sounds are Tess’ sniffs as her cries lessen and her breathing slows.

He doesn’t want to let her go. 

Ever. 

‘I’m going to head to bed,’ Tess eventually murmurs. He releases her and their eyes meet. ‘We have an early start in the morning, this has been a big night’.

He nods.

‘Can we keep open the doors between our rooms?’ she asks hesitantly.

It’s something they’ve always done and the fact she had to ask makes his eyes well with tears.

He nods again.

‘Hey,’ he calls, just as she crosses the threshold between their rooms.

‘Yeah,’ she responds without looking back.

‘There isn’t a right time to tell you this, but there is something else I need you to know. I wasn’t sure how to tell you’.

Tess doesn’t turn around. 

She freezes in the doorway and answers in a shaky voice, ‘What is it?’

*

Oh, fuck.

She knows what he’s going to say. She’s been expecting it for months. Even though she’s been loving her time with her boyfriend she’s always felt an undercurrent of dread. 

The tug of nervous anticipation. 

She quite never understood why, not until this evening’s conversation. 

It’s because it’s the one final act that severs Virtue & Moir. That ends Scott and Tessa. 

Maybe she’d been harbouring a hidden wish that she and Scott would end up together. The wine and the pie flushing out a denied and unspoken desire.

She assumes tonight’s conversation has guilted him into his imminent confession. Their missed opportunity has driven him to honesty, him not wanting her to find out from anyone else. 

She can’t turn around. She doesn’t want him to see her face when he tells her. 

When he tells her that he’s having a baby with his fiancé. 

What else could it be? 

‘Tee,’ he says quietly, ‘I’m not getting married’.

She spins around so quickly she knocks her elbow on the open door. Holy shit, it should hurt. But it doesn’t. She’s completely numb.

‘What?’ she whispers.

‘I’m not getting married. I called it off. Between Christmas and New Year’.

‘That was three months ago,’ she finds her voice.

‘Yes. I just, I wanted you to know. In light of everything we spoke about tonight’.

‘OK,’ she states.

‘OK,’ he echoes back.

*


	5. The Package

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If the night before was a little confusing the morning brings some clarity.
> 
> A substantial amount of clarity. 
> 
> Some unexpected clarity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big shout out to Rook for her help with the plot. Mwah!

Tessa closes the door and slips into her bed. She’s surprised to find that sleep beckons her, washes over her in warm waves and she sinks into dreams of her boyfriend. 

She wishes they were hot-as-fuck sex dreams, with his face between her legs or them tangled together in the huge bed of his Toronto apartment, or them frantically fucking in his car after a swim in the lake.

But they are not.

She knows why.

It’s her subconscious. 

It’s her subconscious trying to process the confession filled conversation with her platonic-but-only-because-they-were-too-stupid-to-read-the-signs-ex-skating partner.

Her dreams are filled with repeated images of Scott. They’re training and he abruptly leaves the rink mid-program. She desperately chases him along strange corridors and finally corners him in the men’s dressing room of the Ilderton Arena, only to find him leaning against the sink, a hockey stick in one hand, the other tossing and catching a puck. 

‘We should talk,’ smiles her dreamy boyfriend, his reflection in the dressing room mirror missing and replaced by a silent Scott, ‘I suspect you have something to tell me’.

She wakes from the same dream four times and tumbles back to sleep on each occasion. When she finally wakes just before 6am she finds a text from her boyfriend, it tells her that he’s sending her something to brighten her day and she should be ready to sign for it 8am. 

She shivers with excitement and texts back to say that’s perfect timing, as she’s leaving for their speaking event at 8:30am. He has an excellent track record of thoughtful surprises.

She slinks past the doors adjoining her room with Scott’s and peers in to see his bed is empty, the covers turned back neatly and his suit is laying at the end of the bed. His shoes are placed on the floor, the same pair he wore to the Walk of Fame events. 

She jumps in the shower to wash her hair and as she leaves the bathroom Kelly knocks on her hotel room door. 

‘What’s happened?’ are the first words Kelly speaks to her.

‘Fuck. Lots,’ she squeezes Kelly in a tight hug. 

‘I can tell,’ Kelly drags her cases through the door, ‘You look... spooked’.

‘I want to tell you, but here and now is not the time,’ she whispers nodding towards the interconnecting doors, unsure if Scott returned from wherever he’s been while she was showering. 

‘OK, gotcha,’ Kelly smiles, very familiar with the traditional Virtue Moir hotel room arrangements.

Kelly gets started on her hair and she loses herself to her thoughts until Scott pops his head in the door carrying two very large takeaway coffees. 

Kelly cuts the hairdryer and grabs the coffees from him.

‘Morning and thank you,’ Kelly smiles, passing off one of the coffees into her waiting hand.

‘Great to see you Kell,’ Scott plants a quick kiss on Kelly’s cheek.

Maybe it’s last night’s conversation, maybe it’s still hardwired into her after all these years, or maybe it’s just part of her DNA, but he looks so incredibly attractive - relaxed and tousled in his old shorts and fitted t-shirt. 

‘Did you go for a run?’ she asks, meeting Scott’s eyes for the first time today.

‘What gave it away, Tee? The sweat soaked t-shirt or the running shoes?’ he teases. 

‘Neither. I’m well acquainted with the scent of Moir perspiration, I could smell you before I saw you,’ she pokes out her tongue. 

‘I’ll take back the coffee if you’re going to be mean,’ he smirks. 

‘I think we both know that’s a big lie,’ she challenges.

He tilts his head and gives her a wink, ‘Perhaps it is, Tessa Virtue, perhaps it is’.

As he leaves the room he calls over his shoulder, ‘I’m having a quick shower’. 

They hear Scott close his bathroom door and Kelly steps in front of her and places the hairdryer and brush on the table.

‘Right. What the hell is going on between you two? That was like a flashback to February 2018’.

All she can do is blink at Kelly in shock.

‘Why has he reverted to fun, flirty Scott? And why you are you coquettish Tessa?’ Kelly implores.

‘Shit,’ she responds, getting up to close one of the doors between their rooms. ‘Shit, shit, shit. That’s what I wanted to tell you. Last night was weird. We got drunk. And honest. Remember my post Pyeongchang crush that turned to a hysterical crap-fest because he moved on before I could tell him?’

‘Every last tear,’ Kelly sighs.

‘He felt the same way. But thought I didn’t. We shared some wine and the crushing realisation that we fucked up our chance to live happily ever after. Together,’ she says is a faux dramatic voice. 

‘What?’ hisses Kelly.

‘I know. And it gets worse. Or better. Or worse. I’m not even sure which one. He’s not getting married anymore’.

‘The broke up?’ Kelly jerks her head up as reaches for the hair dryer again.

‘Over Christmas. You couldn’t make this up. It’s it’s like a work of fiction’.

‘Fan-fiction,’ Kelly states.

‘Redemption,’ they breathe in unison.

‘We need to finish you hair and we need to open that door,’ Kelly instructs. She nods to Kelly in agreement. Just as Kelly is about to flick on the hair dryer she stops and raises her eyebrows, ‘So... What does all this mean? What about your...?’ Kelly’s voice trails off. 

‘I have absolutely no idea,’ she responds. 

*

He hasn’t gone for a run like that in ages. 

God, it feels good. He feels like he’s woken from a very long sleep. He feels sharp and with a clarity of mind he hadn’t realised he’d been missing. He’s not sure if it’s the run, what happened last night or just generally being around Tess again. Or a combination of all three? 

Most certainly the conversation he and Tess had last night, although tinged with a sad sense of ‘what could have been’, has him feeling like the opaqueness of their confused past has been flushed clear. 

The relief in clearing the air has put a spring in his step. He’s looking forward to their speaking engagement.

He’s also looking forward to the post speech mingling and lunch. Something he hasn’t felt in a while. That’s until he’s hit with uneasy feeling that somebody will undoubtably ask about his cancelled wedding.

He washes his hair and decides to ask Tee to run interference for him, to divert the conversation if needed. This is an old trick, well employed in days past. 

Leaving the bathroom with a towel around his waist he grabs his suit and quickly dresses away from the adjoining doors so he’s afforded some privacy. 

‘Hey Tee,’ he calls through the open door.

‘Yep,’ she calls back. 

‘You decent?’ 

‘Come on in’.

He finds Tess in her robe, hair all done, Kelly packing up while Tess does her own eye make up.

‘Hair looks great, by the way,’ he smiles at Kelly,

‘Thanks Scott,’ Kelly smiles back.

‘Tee, can you do me a favour?’

Tess has her mouth open that way she does when she’s doing her mascara. She mumbles her assent.

‘If anyone brings up the engagement can you please...’ he can’t finish the sentence.

Tess twists the mascara wand into the barrel and gently throws it into her make up bag. It’s the one she had when they were still skating together.

‘I got your back,’ she says quietly and gives a sad smile.

‘Thanks’.

They hold each other’s gaze and he forgets that Kelly is in the room until there is a sharp rap in the door.

‘That’ll be your package, Tess,’ Kelly announces hesitantly. There’s something behind Kelly’s nervousness but he’s not sure what it is. 

He’s closest to the door, so he offers to answer it given Tess is on the other side of the room and still in her robe. She nods and her sad smile turns to one of gratitude. 

‘What are you expecting,’ he asks in the six steps to the door. He twists back to her as he pulls open the door to hear her say she isn’t really sure, it’s a surprise. 

When he turns around to see what’s been delivered he’s momentarily shell-shocked. 

It’s a surprise, that’s for sure. 

It’s her fucking boyfriend.


	6. The Letter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes it’s easier to write down how you feel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eek, it’s been a long time between drinks for this neglected little fic. Enjoy 💕

Scott wakes to someone kissing his neck. 

Of course, it’s Tess. 

She’s snuggled up behind him, her naked chest against his naked back, her delightfully welcome hand moving down his stomach towards his pyjama pants. 

‘You sleep like the dead,’ she nuzzles her warm lips between his shoulder blades.

‘That’s because you exhausted me,’ he lazily smiles. Even though she can’t see his face, he can tell that Tess knows he’s smiling.

He hasn’t opened his eyes yet, desperately trying to stay in this magical moment between last night’s veeeeeery good sex and the equally good sex he suspects they’re about to have. 

It’s perfection.

‘No more sleeping,’ she whispers.

‘No more sleeping,’ he echoes, taking Tess’ hand and moving it to his cock like this kind of thing isn’t new for them both. He’s already hard and she murmurs the most adorable little sigh of approval into his ear.

‘I want you on your back,’ she hums.

‘Oh yeah?’ he turns, eyes still closed but smiling directly at her so she can see him this time. 

And then he flashes open his eyes.

And takes in his surroundings.

And swallows all the curse words.

He’s not in bed with Tess. He’d fallen asleep on his flight home and had another torturous sex dream about her. Why the fuck does this keep happening? His subconscious needs a spectacular kick in the ass, primarily because he is perfectly aware he’s got a zillion pent up feelings about his ex-skating partner. Particularly when he is conscious, so the subconscious aspect is completely unnecessary. At least he didn’t come in his pants this time.

His flight home sucks. He was supposed to travel home with Tess but at the last minute she decided to stay in Vancouver a little longer. That does not bode well for him. He thinks he pulled off an impassive expression when she told him. 

Almost.

The plane’s entertainment system is on the fritz. Which, sadly, lends itself to four and a half hours of replaying the lowlights of the last forty eight hours over and over and over and over... well, you get the idea. 

When he finally walks out of the Arrivals Hall it’s another girl that’s waiting for him. 

It’s unexpected but he knows he shouldn’t be surprised. She gives him a familiar smile and stands still, waiting for him to come to her.

He’s immediately overcome by the feeling that he has taken her for granted. She’s always so rock solid while he’s skittering from one emotion to another. Her steadiness is something she has in common with Tessa. Both of them like magnets, drawing him back to where he feels safest.

‘Thought you could do with a familiar face,’ she smiles sadly as he takes her in his arms.

‘How’d you know?’ he whispers, ‘Fuck, it was awful’.

‘Saw the photos. You and Tess still make the gossip websites. I saw he was there too,’ she rubs his back.

‘I’m glad you’re here, Ma,’ he squeezes her tight. 

‘I love you,’ his mom squeezes back, ‘it’s alright to be sad’.

*

May 2020

The last thing Tessa anticipates is receiving a letter from Scott. Especially one that is handwritten, scanned and sent to her via email. The letter is attached to a covering note that simply reads ‘For you, love S’.

It’s been eight weeks since they were in Vancouver together. She and Scott haven’t spoken since then. Not a even a text, which isn’t terribly unusual. It’s been eight long weeks, rendering their drunken dinner somewhat of a confession riddled mirage. She thinks she catches small glimpses of their conversation when she looks over her shoulder but she’s not sure if it ever really happened. Did Scott really say that’s she is still the one that got away? 

She’s thought about that night. A lot. It makes her feel a turbulent combination of confusion, regret and possibility. A spark of anticipation glows timidly whenever she thinks of him.

Given that Scott went to the effort of handwriting his letter it only seems fair that she prints it out and reads it properly. So she does just that and settles into her sunny reading nook, the favourite part of her London house, with the letter and a tepid cup of tea.

Tessa’s not sure what she expecting the letter to say. This is the first time she’s ever received a proper letter from Scott. He’s sent her hundreds of emails, a handful of cards and some short notes but never a handwritten letter, so it’s with a mixture of butterflies and dread she dives in. 

Dear Tess

Writing you a letter reminds me of those silly Christmas cards we sent each other in the mid 2000s. Do you remember the card with the puppies in Santa hats on the front, and my six stanza rhyming poem on the inside? Some of my best creative work, me thinks. 

It also reminds me of the notes JF suggested we write each other in the lead up to the Olympics. If I didn’t make it clear at the time, I loved the notes you sent me. Thank you. I’m not really sure why but I reread them all earlier today, which is what prompted me to write this letter to you.

Writing feels safer than talking, less chance to put my feet in my mouth, less chance to lose my nerve. You know?

Tee... you’re... incredible. In every sense. And the regret I feel over fucking up our chance of being together is keeping me up at night. It feels self-indulgent to tell you this now, because I know our moment has passed. Yet, it also feels important to say this, I’m genuinely glad you’re happy with him. He’s a great guy and I think you should give that relationship a shot. You deserve everything that makes you happy.

But here’s the thing, if it doesn’t work with him, I really need you to know that I’ll be waiting. 

I’ll be here, and in the meantime I’m getting on with things. I finally realise I have to make an effort to do things by myself. Because I think I need to focus on being an independent version of me. One that’s not one half of a relationship - either personal or professional.

So, it’s a bit of a mixed message I’m giving you, eh? I need some time to work on being me but I still want you. Fuck, you have no idea how much I want you.

Maybe it would have been easier to talk about this...I know you’re rolling your eyes right now. 

I have no idea how to finish up, so I’ll end with this - make the decisions that make you happy, I’ll be around, in any capacity you need.

Love, S.

After she reads the last sentence, she turns to look out the window, the letter leaving her hand and fluttering to the floor. By the time she finally leaves the chair the sun has gone down and she has a plan. She grabs her computer and books a flight to where she needs to go. 


	7. The Comeback

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time for a little flashback.
> 
> Things are going swimmingly in Montreal.
> 
> Until they’re not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long time, no see.
> 
> There’s not a lot happening around here at the moment, not compared to the old days!
> 
> But I’m plodding on. Hopefully, someone’s still out there 💕

Early 2016

Moving to Montreal has been less complicated than Tessa expected. Their new home town feels like it’s brimming with potential in that shiny, novel way promised by all fresh beginnings. Yet, it’s also familiar. She can’t quite put her finger on why their recently acquired home base seems like an old friend. But she’s glad. It is exactly how she wanted to feel. 

She already loves it here and knows she will keep loving it here - the buildings, the coffee, the French flavoured voices. She isn’t naive, is fully aware her sense of comfort is partly attributable to who she’s with. But this time being around him feels ... different. Which is good. She’s done with her own complicated feelings. She’s done with second guessing Scott’s intentions. Done with being confused. 

These next two years have a single focus and she excels at being focused. They have a clear plan. To win. 

Her reverie is broken by Scott’s sigh, ‘This is going to sound a bit weird, but hear me out... I feel like we’ve been living in Montreal way longer than six weeks, eh?’ 

He cocks his head to the side and raises those stupid eyebrows of his, they move like little sideways exclamation points on his face. She snatches the cigarette he’s drawing towards his lips, watches his fond eye roll, before closing her own eyes and taking a very long, very satisfying drag. The sunshine on her face feels exceptionally wholesome, in stark contrast to the gritty taste in her mouth.

‘We’ve gotta give up the sneaky smokes. This is the last one,’ she declares, meeting his gaze as she states the obvious.

‘Tee,’ Scott groans, taking what’s left of the cigarette from her, ‘I’m not ready yet’. 

He holds it between his thumb and forefinger and finishes it off, tilting his head up, blowing the smoke skyward, the clear blue momentarily marred by a soft grey. There’s something so quintessentially ‘Scott’ about this whole scene - his innate relaxedness and how the smoking is such an unacceptable habit for a committed athlete. 

She smiles despite herself, sixteen year old Tessa would be loving this little Moir interlude. Sharing a secret smoke on their training break, she and Scott finally genuine friends and unequivocally equal decision-making partners. It was her teenage dream. 

‘That sun, it’s so good, right?’ he prompts. 

‘Hmmmm?’ she pretends to ignore the question. 

It’s not lost on her that their thoughts are in sync for the second time in less than two minutes. It’s ‘uncomplicated’ being around Scott when he’s only the best parts of himself. When he’s funny and even-keeled but still driven and outcome focused. She hasn’t seen impatient or capricious Scott appear once in the four weeks since they’ve returned to full time training. 

He’s so easy to love when he’s like this. She knows the slope is slippery. And that way lies danger. It’s a line they’ve never crossed. This is no time for her appreciation of the choicest parts of Scott to be misconstructed into something... unhelpful.

‘Okay. Back to it Virtch Dog,’ he bops her nose with his nicotine scented finger. Sixteen year old Tessa would love that too.

Oh, fuck.

*

‘You two are doing a terrible job of hiding the fact you are still smoking,’ Marie-France sniffs as they glide over to where she is standing on the ice against the boards. 

‘C’mon, Marie,’ Scott flirts, talking her right hand and spinning her under his arm, ‘Would we really categorise one shared cigarette as ‘smoking’?’

‘I think the word ‘smoking’ intimates more than it is. It’s not like we have an addiction or...’ she responds before her voice peters out under Marie’s contemptuous gaze. 

‘Tessa, did you put it in your mouth and suck it?’ Marie continues to glare at her.

‘That’s a very personal question for you to ask of Tee. I’m scandalised!’ Scott gasps in mock outrage. 

Marie looks to Scott with a completely impassive expression at the exact same time Scott speaks out of the side of his mouth, ‘Do you think our coach just asked if you partake in oral sex?’

‘Oh, for fuck’s sake,’ she groans, sending up a silent prayer of thanks that Patrice joins Marie at the boards.

‘We are here to be competitive skaters? Yes? Not chain smoking, wannabe comedians?’ Patch asks.

‘Well, I can only talk for myself when I say I am completely uninterested in a career in comedy,’ she offers. ‘Scott?’

Scott straightens up and she mistakenly believes he’s going to give a sensible reply. 

‘I can also confirm that Tessa is not interested in a career in comedy,’ he deadpans. 

*

After an hour on the ice, followed by ninety horrendous minutes in the gym and an uninspiring lukewarm shower, she and Scott decide to walk down the street and grab a coffee before heading back to their apartments.

Peering at the menu board he moves behind her and wraps his arms over her shoulders.

‘Too many choices, Kiddo. I’m all outta fucks. You order for me,’ he mumbles in her ear before squeezing her tight then walking away to stand back near the doorway.

Once she gets to the counter she reels off their coffee order. She’s also completely outta fucks, so she simply orders two of what she wants, it’s too hard to think about what Scott might like. Training is whipping their asses. Scott’s moreso than hers, but she still feels tired and sore. Four weeks in and it’s not getting any easier. She misses their first two weeks in Montreal, when her most strenuous activities were sightseeing and unpacking. She knows the turning point will come, they just need to keep up the effort.

They leave with their coffees and walk in companionable silence for a few blocks. 

‘You want to do something tonight?’ Scott brushes his hand against hers in an attempt to get her attention. It’s unexpected.

‘Just wanna sleep,’ she sighs.

‘Solid plan,’ he bumps her shoulder in agreement while they slowly walk in the sunshine, ‘I probably won’t be able to move in four hours time’.

‘Any regrets?’ she teases.

‘Only one,’ he sighs, his voice tinged with honesty.

‘What’s that?’ 

She was only joking and is a little surprised he’s answered in the affirmative.

‘That I let myself get this out of shape. It’s hard fucking work getting my skating muscles back’.

‘You’re doing OK,’ she soothes.

‘Hmmm, at least I know I’ve found those muscles, because they ache so fucking much at night I don’t want to roll over in bed’.

‘It’ll be worth it,’ she laughs. ‘It’ll get better’.

She means those words. This phase is going to be the hardest and requires them to dig in and commit to the discipline of competitive life. She wants to win again so badly. She knows she’s all in. 

She knows Scott’s all in too.

‘All part of our grand plan, eh?’ he smiles. It’s his genuine smile, the one he gives his mom when he sees her after a long separation.

‘Something like that,’ she hums.

*

‘What did one plate say to the other plate?’ he murmurs to Tess as they wait for their new high performance coach.

‘Are you six years old?’ she laughs.

‘What did one plate say to the other plate?’ he insists.

Tess rolls her eyes.

‘Dinner’s on me,’ he smirks.

Tess tries to suppress a laugh but she fails, laughing deep from her chest in that way that makes him intentionally puff his own chest with pride. She’s been the best thing about returning to competitive skating. She’s different this time round. She has a new self-confidence. She’s so focused, so driven, so fucking attractive. Tess’ always been beautiful but she’s evolved into this incredible package. It’s... distracting. 

‘Are you going to subject me to dumb jokes until PyeongChang?’

‘I am,’ he smiles, winking at her.

She screws up her face and pokes out her tongue then thumps her head against his shoulder. He can’t help but rest his head on top of hers and sneaks a quick kiss to her head.

‘I’m glad we’re doing this,’ she whispers.

‘Me too, T-Bone,’ he promises, closing his eyes. He feels Tess find his hand and lightly stroke his fingers.

Someone clears their voice and both his and Tess’ heads fly up.

‘Tessa, Scott, I’m JF. Great to meet you,’ a youngish looking guy smiles at them. ‘Come on in’. JF turns and opens the door behind him, beckoning them into the room.

‘Game on,’ Tess mouths as she sails past him into JF’s office then gracefully folds herself into one of the large armchairs. He follows, sitting in the chair next to Tess, both of them facing JF across a low timber coffee table.

JF settles them into the session, it’s nothing they haven’t heard before, talking about goals and agreeing to some rules of engagement. JF is halfway through explaining that they’ll be meeting weekly when he places one of his elbows on his armchair, he rests his chin in his hand, looking at them with a tilt of his head. ‘You guys just friends? Anything more than that? Romantically involved?’

‘Never,’ Tess responds immediately and firmly.

And it’s the truth.

*

Mid 2017

‘Why did the tomato blush?’ she nudges Scott. He’s been fiddling with the bottle cap from the water he drank on their way over to JF’s office.

‘Because it saw the salad dressing,’ he replies absentmindedly.

She scoffs and turns in her chair. He’s not playing their usual game. And it’s not like him. They always tell stupid jokes waiting for JF. It’s been the routine since their very first visit to JF, which was... over seventy visits ago... her dodgy math brain quickly estimates. 

Scott looks nervous, which gives her cause for concern. It’s so unlike him. Long gone are the stomach churning days of his unpredictable moodiness. He’s still has his off days, of course, but the self-indulgent immaturity has faded into a mellow dependability. He’s kind and decisive and thoughtful and affectionate and... well, wonderful. Their partnership is solid and their skating is spectacular. Nervous isn’t a word that she associates with him.

‘What’s up with you?’ she blurts.

‘Let’s talk about it with JF,’ he replies without even looking at her.

‘Did I do something wrong?’ she asks softly. She takes his hand imploring him to be honest. She doesn’t think she has but his behaviour is so odd she’s completely thrown. 

‘Oh, Tee,’ he looks at her so sadly, ‘the problem is you’re doing everything right’.

Her stomach drops. She has no idea what he means, just knows he’s not happy. It hurts her heart. 

‘What do you...’ 

But with comedically bad timing JF swings open his office door and she doesn’t get the chance to finish her question. While she takes her usual spot in the armchair closest to the window she sees JF speak quietly to Scott and squeeze his shoulder. 

‘What’s going on?’ she cuts straight to the chase.

‘I need to tell you something,’ Scott starts.

‘OK,’ she looks to JF but he’s not giving anything away.

‘And I think having JF to help us navigate the issue will be beneficial to us both’. 

‘OK,’ she says again.

‘It’s about how I feel on the ice,’ he swallows, ‘and how I feel off the ice’.

She doesn’t know what to say. Doesn’t know where he’s going. So she says nothing. Scott and JF both look at her expectantly.

‘About what?’ she quizzes.

Scott and JF share a look. Scott takes a breath and quickly nods his head in response to JF’s silent question. 

‘About you,’ JF gently replies.


	8. The Stairs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tessa flees to Montreal to seek some advice from Marie-France. She’s gotta lotta feelings to work through.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to those who are sticking with this little story 💕

June 2020

Tessa has just suffered through the most painfully embarrassing fifteen minutes of her life. She is choosing to ignore that reality and decided to live in denial. Permanently. 

Scott’s face was between her legs.  
Off the ice and very much on purpose.

More to the point, she is choosing to ignore that Scott’s face was between her legs and it was terrible. TERRIBLE. She’d always imagined that he’d be amazing at eating her out. That he’d have incredible technique, using skill and finesse to change up what he was doing based on her squirms and sighs.

It’s a big old nope to all of that. 

It was clunky and just the one move - repetitive poking with a pointy tongue - that kinda got her going towards the end. Almost. 

Except, just when the random stabs at her vulva unintentionally drifted a little higher, and Scott’s tongue finally hit her clitoris, he pulled away and reached for the condom on her bedside table. 

‘Good?’ he’d asked her, with absolutely no idea that it may not have been.

She didn’t have time to school her face into a neutral expression, she must have been looking as confused as she felt. Plus her own mouth wasn’t working properly either, so all she managed was a ‘Um...’ before his face fell in horror. 

That’s when she woke up. Nightmare over. Thank God. She hasn’t got time for that bullshit now. 

She has a plane to catch. 

*

She probably should have told Patch and Marie-France she was coming. But she wanted to surprise Marie. Turns out that wasn’t such a great idea.

When she walks through the doors at I.AM she isn’t magically transported back in time. She doesn’t breathe in the scent of sweaty ice dancers and desperately miss competitive skating. Instead she feels completely content. A wave of appreciation washes over her. This is the place that she and Scott truly grew into adults. It will always hold a very special place in her heart and she loves coming back here.

But the skating? It is done. 

A pair of perspiring teenagers come rushing around the corner and the boy almost barrels her over in an attempt to snatch something out of the girl’s hands. They’re laughing deep from within their chests and she doesn’t think they’re paying her any attention until they disappear through the doorway of the dance studio and she hears the girl say ‘Holy crap. I think that was Tessa Virtue’. 

The boy pops his head out from the room and turns to shout, ‘It is!’

The girl joins him and the upper half of both their bodies hang out into the hallway. Their brows are sweaty and it reminds her of the countless times she walked out of that same room with a sweaty Scott.

‘Hi there, is Marie-France around?’ she smiles at her awestruck little fans. 

‘Not right now,’ the boy beams, ‘but there’s someone in the upstairs office who can help you’.

The girl hits him in the chest and chastises him with an emphatic ‘Andre!’ before they both vanish back into the studio.

She’s not quite sure what to make of that interaction but is startled to feel a little relieved that Marie isn’t around. She reflects on her reaction as she dumps her suitcase in the corner of the foyer and climbs up the familiar stairs to the suite of coaches’ offices. When she gets halfway up she peers over the bannister and catches a glimpse of Madi and Zach snorting with laughter on the larger of the two practice rinks. A rush of fond memories envelope her - Scott making the long days seem shorter, thousands of inside jokes, the thrill of triumphant but small wins when choreography clicked, endless laughing and the sublime glee they felt when finally nailing every element during a run-through. 

Those feelings are all tied up with Scott. They can never be undone and she doesn’t want to. Perhaps that’s why she’s relieved that Marie isn’t here? This way the past gets to stay as the past, and she avoids having to unbottle all the feelings she’s come to talk about with Marie. 

Then she is struck by another realisation. Does she really need to say the words out loud to Marie to make those feelings real? Because ever since the boozy dinner in Vancouver she’s known exactly how she feels and what she wants. She just needs to put on her big girl pants and accept those feelings, the ones that have always been there, whimpering under a veil of denial. It’s been simply too terrifying to say the words out loud. 

Tessa processes these thoughts while climbing the remaining eight steps. There is a sudden moment of lucidity when reaching the second floor landing - she snorts at the symbolism of it all.

She’s reached her destination and knows what’s next. 

She stops herself and takes a cleansing breath. There is nothing to be afraid of, it’s not terrifying. It’s factual. She knows how she feels, feels it in her bones, is so very, very certain of it. 

Not almost. 

But decidedly.

She still wants Scott.

*

Her symbolic moment of truth is followed by an ‘oh fuck’ moment. She is in Montreal and Scott is in Ilderton. She has travelled 730km to talk through her feelings with Marie-France. Who isn’t here either. And she just figured out all her shit, in Marie’s absence (and, she might add, in a very schmaltzy-Hallmark-movie-montage-type way. Scott would love it). 

She’s not sure if flying to Montreal on a whim has been an impulsive disaster or a stroke of genius. She decides to go with the latter, especially as bubbles of excitement pop within her belly. Still, she needs to head home. She wants to see Scott.

Before she leaves she knocks on the office door in an attempt to find out when Marie will be back. It seems ridiculous to immediately head back home if Marie is returning later today. Marie had been the trusted confidant she turned to in 2017, fleeing to her coach in tears after a session with JF where Scott had ambushed her with his off-ice feelings. Bowled over by Scott’s admission she’d remained impassive throughout the entire session. While a turbulent mix of feelings collided about her chest Scott had laid his cards on the table, and concluded by saying that he knew she didn’t feel the same way. They both carried on under the misapprehension that his feelings were one-sided. In truth, his confession had planted a proverbial seed. One that grew over the following months, fed by respect and teamwork, her feelings for Scott slowly bloomed into desire, and much, much more than friendship. Marie was there again in early 2018 as she summoned the courage to tell Scott how she felt, and then in mid 2018 when her indecision caused her to miss her chance, confused and heartbroken that things hadn’t worked out with Scott the way she’d hoped.

There’s a muffled ‘Come in’ from behind the office door and when she opens it she’s presented with a naked back. It’s owner hastily pulling a t-shirt down over his shoulders. The musculature is exquisite - broad and defined. His latissimus dorsi muscles ripple with the movement of his arms. It’s a very, very good back. 

She is stunned into silence until the individual begins to spin around. And while she didn’t recognise the back, she knows that way of moving. Knows it immediately and it gives her tingles all the way down to her toes. She stays rooted to the spot as he finally faces her.

‘Tee, what the heck are you doing here?’ Scott asks.

*

‘I didn’t recognise your back,’ are the first words to escape her lips. 

‘Excuse me?’ Scott enquires, confusion marking his features.

‘Your back. I didn’t realise it’s was you. Don’t you think that’s weird? I spent almost my whole life knowing your back’.

Scott still looks a little bewildered but he quickly gets himself together, realising that one of them needs to make sense.

‘No,’ he speaks slowly, ‘I don’t think it’s weird. Our bodies will have changed significantly since we stopped skating’. He looks to her expectantly and gives a gentle smile.

‘I s’pose so,’ is all she can manage in response.

‘What brings you Montreal, Tess?’ Scott asks. He stays exactly where he is on the other side of the room. She wishes he’d close the distance between them. They usually touch when saying hello - a hand, a kiss, an embrace. She can tell he’s trying not to spook her. But she can’t tell if it’s because he thinks she’s acting like a lunatic or because this is the first time they’ve spoken since she received the letter he sent her a week ago. A letter she never acknowledged. Either reason is a completely legitimate response as far as she’s concerned. 

‘I came to see Marie-France’.

*

Tess is in Montreal. In this room, right now, even. To say it’s unexpected is the understatement of the century.

It’s been radio-silence between them ever since he emailed her his hand written letter a week ago. He had thought she would have at least acknowledge it’s receipt. But no.

‘Marie. She’s not here?’ Tess simultaneously makes a statement and asks a question.

‘Patch’s father is sick. They’re at the hospital’.

He watches Tess’ face fall. 

‘It’s OK. He’s going to be fine’.

Tess reaches out and grabs his hand, her familiar fingers slipping between his into their on-ice hold, she tugs him towards her as she steps right up to his chest. She’s in his space before he knows it, arms around his neck and her face nestled into his shoulder.

‘I didn’t realise you cared so much about Patch’s Dad’, he jokes, wrapping her in an embrace. She feels so good in his arms. He breathes her in and kisses her cheek on the exhale. 

She snuggles further into into his chest and makes an adorable sigh-type noise before huffing out a laugh. He begins to release her but she shakes her head. ‘Please don’t let me go,’ she whispers.

I NEVER WANT TO LET YOU GO! His brain screams. I WANT TO LAY YOU DOWN ON THIS GROTTY OFFICE FLOOR AND KISS YOU SENSELESS AND TELL YOU I WILL ALWAYS TAKE CARE OF YOU. I WANT TO TAKE YOU ON DATES AND FOR YOU TO LAUGH AT ALL MY JOKES, I WANT YOU TO HAVE MIND-BLOWING SEX WITH ME IN THE SHOWER. I WANT TO CONVINCE YOU TO SPEND THE REST OF YOUR LIFE WITH ME AND LIVE HAPPILY EVER AFTER WITH OUR CUTE ICE SKATING BABIES. 

But he does not say that.

‘Whatever you need,’ he says instead. 

They stay like that for a while and he tries to work up the courage to ask her about his letter. 

‘Can we have dinner tonight?’ she asks from her safe spot on his shoulder.

‘Yeah, Tess,’ he smiles, ‘I’d love to do that’.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We’re finally getting to the good part. Hope you’ll stick around.


	9. The River

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our heroes finally confess their love to each other. In public, no less. 
> 
> (Also I had to change the timeline a little, to make this chapter and last chapter happen in June 2020)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is for Rook, whom I have not spoken to in over 14 hours. That is a personal best. Wake up, Rook!
> 
> She told me ‘Get to the fucking’.  
So I have... almost 😉

June 2020

When Scott woke at 6:30am this morning to Billie-Rose practicing for her piano exam he did not expect to be in Tessa’s company seven hours later. But he’s not complaining. Not one iota.

‘Why can’t you hear a pterodactyl going to the bathroom?’ Tess asks as they walk from the smaller I.AM practice rink back to the coaches’ offices.

He is so fucking fond of her in this moment that he wants to pinch her cheeks. They’ve spent the last two hours watching various I.AM teams train. Despite his best efforts, he and Tess haven’t been alone since their accidental rendezvous in the office earlier in the day. They’ve been sitting by the boards, drinking coffee, watching team after team unsubtly try to impress them. They’ve also been joined by an endless but charming stream of off-ice (and frustratingly unintentional) chaperones. 

Tessa’s been kind and engaging with everyone - asking questions about music choices and showing enthusiasm for their costume inspiration. It’s been a nice way to spend a few hours. Admittedly, it would have been better to have a chance to talk. But, still...

‘You’ve got me. No idea. Why can’t you hear a pterodactyl going to the bathroom?’ he asks as they turn into the hallway leading back to the main staircase.

‘You disappoint me,’ she faux yawns, ‘I was sure you’d nail this one’. 

She looks at him expectantly. He shrugs his shoulders.

‘The ‘P’ is silent’.

He laughs and throws an arm around Tess, squeezing her to his side. She comes easily, quickly tucking herself in towards him and slipping an arm around his waist. The feel of her against his body is so comforting that it flashes him back in time, to early 2018, the height of their ‘togetherness’. A sense of calm and contentment settles in his soul (with a smidge of guilt that he never felt this way with his fiancé). It might break his heart a little, but ultimately it doesn’t matter what transpires at dinner, he knows that he and Tess will always be friends. Their shared history can’t ever be eroded, even by his misplaced feelings. But fuck, please, please, please let Tess slip him her own handwritten note across the dinner table. A note confessing her undying love for him and volunteering to be both his wife and mother of his children. 

While he’s recklessly fantasising about a fictitious future with Tess there’s an unexpected commotion in the foyer. He hears a laugh before a swarm of noisy skaters disperse to reveal the source, and he immediately knows it’s Marie-France.

‘Tessa! You’re here?’ Marie calls as she claps eyes on Tess. Patch stands where he is, quizzically raising both eyebrows in that a laconic way of his.

Tessa wiggles out from under his arm and flees into Marie’s embrace.

‘Um. Surprise?’ Tess laughs, shrugging her shoulders. That also makes him want to squeeze her cheeks.

‘It is,’ Marie confirms. ‘But a great one’.

‘How’s your Dad?’ she enquires of Patch, as she reaches out to give his hand a comforting squeeze.

‘He is better. Nothing an appendectomy and a good rest can’t fix,’ smiles Patrice.

‘His surgery went well and he’s resting. We shall head back tomorrow,’ Marie adds.

‘That’s great,’ he and Tessa say together. Tess turns to him and rolls her eyes. 

‘We love that you’re here, Tess! But why?’ Marie-France probes.

‘I was in Montreal and I thought I’d pop by and say ‘Hello’. I’m heading back tomorrow’. Tessa has a funny lilt to her voice and he knows that she’s not telling Marie the truth. Or maybe not telling the complete truth. He’s not exactly sure which it is given that she’s avoiding his gaze. It’s a dead giveaway that she wants to hide something from him.

‘Well, we are glad. The four of us should share a meal tonight, yes?’ suggests Patch.

‘Oui, oui, that is an excellent idea,’ enthuses Marie.

His heart sinks a little and Tess looks directly at him in response Patch’s question. Her mouth twitches in apology. He knows exactly what he has to say, even though he doesn’t want to, ‘Dinner sounds great. Tess and I were heading to Gibbys, for old time’s sake, I’ll change the booking to four people’.

Tess shoots him a warm, affection-filled expression, ‘You booked Gibbys?’ she asks with a tone of wonder that only he’d pick up.

‘I know you love the Beef Wellington. If we didn’t eat there I’d have to listen to you whinge about missing it for the next few months. It’s a purely selfish move,’ he teases. 

But it’s not. And he knows that she knows it’s not.

He just wants to make her happy.

*

While Tessa loves their old coaches with her whole heart she’d really have preferred to have dinner alone with Scott.

They stumbled across Gibbys in their first few weeks in Quebec, discovering the steakhouse hidden in an 18th century stable when they were wandering around Old Montreal. They’d gotten day drunk while consuming the most exceptional Beef Wellington. Afterwards they’d shared their final cigarette on a slow walk towards the Museum of Archeology and History, all while plotting the demise of Gabi and Gui. She wonders if Scott remembers. She’s hopes so, it’s one of her favourite early Montreal memories.

‘Where are your staying Tess?’ Scott’s voice pierces her brief slide down memory lane.

Marie and Patch look at her expectantly. Oh shit, she hadn’t even thought that far ahead, she’d come straight to I.AM from the airport. She quickly scans through her knowledge of Old Montreal to select a hotel close to the river.

‘The St. Paul,’ she rushes, hoping like fuck they have a room for tonight. She remembers the hotel from a weird night out with Madi and Zach, one that she and Scott had when they first arrived in Montreal - the hotel has a great bar. It’s a stunning Beaux Arts building and the hotel has an edgy vibe. Well, it did four years ago.

‘The St Paul. How very Tessa Virtue of you,’ Scott drawls and bumps her hip. She pokes out her tongue.

‘Where are you staying?’ she asks Scott.

‘The most fancy-pants place in Montreal,’ he smiles then pauses for effect, ‘Patch and Marie’s house’.

She wishes the tables were turned. She’d have loved to stay with Marie. Having Scott staying there is going to make it tricky to find any alone time with her old coach. 

‘Well Mr Moir, the private car to your accommodation is leaving in ten minutes. Best you get ready to go,’ Patch deadpans. ‘Tess, we’d love to give lift to your hotel’. 

‘That’s so kind Patch. But not necessary, I’ll grab an Uber. I have a few errands to run before heading to my hotel,’ she lies through her teeth. 

Ugh, being deceptive makes her feel like shit. Scott gives her a weird look but doesn’t say anything. She ignores it.

Later, when he’s helping put her suitcase into the trunk of the Uber he touches her arm and asks, ‘Hey, are you OK? You were acting a little skittish back there with Marie and Patch’.

Sometimes it’s infuriating that he can read her so well. 

‘Yeah,’ she sighs, ‘I’m just a little disappointed they’re crashing our dinner’. 

It’s 33.3% the truth. The other 66.6% being that she’s hoping like fuck she can get a hotel room at the St. Paul and that he’s still in love with her, that he hasn’t abandoned those feelings in the past week. She knows that last part is completely ridiculous but she can’t help herself. 

‘You’re overthinking it, Tee,’ he kisses her cheek goodbye. 

Alright, maybe it’s not so infuriating after all. 

*

He is patting himself on the back. Big time. The Beef Wellington at Gibby’s is even better than he remembered. It’s like his tastebuds have died and gone to heaven.

‘Scott Moir, I have never liked you more than I do in this moment,’ Tess moans in delight and slumps into his side, her head thunks onto his shoulder. He uses every last bit of self control to restrain himself from smothering her hair in kisses.

Marie-France and Patrice laugh from their positions across the table. Their booth is nice and private, tucked away in the corner next to a large window that overlooks the tree-filled courtyard. 

‘Shall we leave you two alone?’ Patch jokes, clearly referring to him and Tess.

‘Please do,’ Tess sighs, ‘Me and my prosciutto wrapped, pastry covered beef fillet want to be very alone right now’.

This gets a laugh from everyone. Even Tess laughs at her own joke. She is so fucking adorable.

‘Moving to Montreal, Tee?’ he steals a mushroom from her plate. 

‘Don’t take food off my plate. I will stab you with my fork,’ Tess threatens, and he thinks she might actually be serious.

‘I’m so glad we’re having dinner. We haven’t even been able to properly catch up with Scott while he’s been here,’ Marie France says between mouthfuls of her steak. 

‘My Father,’ Patch shrugs, explaining the reason. ‘Scott has been a huge help over the past few days, he’s done more babysitting of Billie-Rose than coaching’.

‘I bet,’ Tess smiles, looking at him in the eye, ‘He’s the best’. 

‘So Scott, how are the wedding plans coming along?’ Marie enquires.

Tess is still looking at him when Marie asks the question. Her eyes go wide with surprise when she realises that he hasn’t told Patch and Marie that he called off his engagement. Then, for additional dramatic effect, she unintentionally drops her knife onto her plate. 

‘We aren’t getting married. It wasn’t the right thing for either of us. We had a very mature and sensible break up,’ he states calmly. He doesn’t shift his eyes from Tess’ face. 

He sees Tess’ release a soft exhale and feels her hand creep onto his leg, squeezing lightly just above his knee. She doesn’t move her hand and he slides his hand over hers, resting his fingers in between her fingers. He smiles at her before turning to Marie and Patch. They are completely dumbfounded.

‘That’s, um, that’s good?’ Patch finally speaks.

‘It’s good. It’s old news, it happened back in December’.

‘Decembre?’ Marie reverts to French. ‘This is the first you’ve telling us? Now? In June?’

He gently removes his hand from atop of Tess’ and puts both his elbows on the table, clasping his hands together. 

‘I know. I didn’t want to make a big deal. In hindsight I haven’t made such great decisions about when and how to share my relationship news this past year. I’m sorry’. 

Patch gives him a look that bores into his soul. It’s a crappy cross between disappointment and incredulity. Patch shakes his head a little and a thousand unspoken words flash across Patch’s face. The primary message being that he expects to discuss this when they get home later tonight. 

Marie steps into the breach and Scott hopes she’ll steer the conversation to safer ground, ‘Tess, have you better relationship news? How is your boy... ’

Tess coughs but doesn’t answer and at first he thinks she didn’t hear the question. 

‘Tess?’ Marie encourages.

‘Ah. We’re not, ah, we’re not seeing each other anymore,’ Tess says unhurriedly.

He’s completely taken by surprise. What the fuck? Tess hadn’t said a word about this. Maybe she was going to tell him at dinner? She stares directly at Marie. He can’t see her eyes.

Patch gives an amused sigh.

The rush of blood to his head is so intense he thinks he spaces out for a minute. He has a million fucking questions for Tess. He starts with the one that’s filling his heart with a little hope. 

‘When?’ he whispers. He’s lost all decorum at this point, he turns his entire body to Tess, completely ignoring Marie and Patch sitting on the opposite side of the booth. He takes his elbows off the table and drops his hands to his lap.

‘After you left Vancouver,’ she bites her lip as she discreetly touches his hand under the table. She runs her thumb over the back of his hand so very gently he can hardly feel it. But it conveys everything he needs to know and everything she wants to say.

‘Yeah?’ he smiles.

She bites her lip a little harder and a single tear breaks free from the bottom lashes of her right eye.

‘Yeah,’ she nods through a watery smile.

*

‘C’mere,’ Scott says as he cradles her face and draws her to him. He kisses her delicately on the cheek then whispers ‘I love you so much,’ into her ear.

She takes a fortifying breath against his chest, willing him to know how much she loves him too, then sits up and turns to Marie and Patch. 

‘Oh Tessa, heartbreak is sad, non? Is there a chance for reconciliation?’ Marie throws a hand across the table, a tissue on offer.

It takes her a second to register what Marie is talking about but then she hears loud and clear that Marie thinks she’s emotional because of the break up.

She steals a glance at Scott and he looks momentarily mortified, she squeezes his hand hard and responds to Marie, ‘There is no chance of a reconciliation. He’s not the one for me’. She feels the tension leave Scott’s body.

Despite their impassive expressions she’s sure Marie and Patch have finally caught on to the momentous event happening on the other side of the table.

‘Anyone interested in dessert?’ Patch asks.

She looks to Scott and they both crack up laughing. 

*

After dinner Patch makes a clumsy excuse about having to head off quickly to check on his Dad and suggests that Scott walk Tessa back to her hotel.

‘Thank you,’ he mouths to Patch while Marie and Tess are hugging goodbye. 

He and Tess wave off their old coaches and he scoops up her hand.

‘Walk you to your hotel via the river?’ he smiles.

‘I’d love that,’ she beams back.

It’s a stunning Friday night. It’s warm without being muggy. There’s enough people around for it to seem busy but not too many to feel crowded.

He leads them down to the river, they talk skating the whole time. They both know it’s just delaying the inevitable. There is a delicious anticipation in the air. His stomach is full of butterflies in a way he hasn’t felt since the Olympics. 

When they get down to the St Lawrence they lean against the black metal railing along the water’s edge, their elbows resting on the top. There’s a slight breeze blowing and he’s not sure if the goosebumps on Tessa’s arms are from the weather or excitement.

‘I’m gonna confess that today has not turned out like I expected. What was the best part of your evening?’ Tess asks.

He admires her pluck in starting this conversation. She’s always been the brave one. He admires every fucking thing about her right now. The warm glow of the lights along the riverside path are making her eyes sparkle. He flips around and rests his back against the railing so he’s facing the park and she’s still facing the river. 

‘The Beef Wellington. Clearly,’ he teases.

Tess laughs and scrunches up her nose. He can’t help but reach over and give it an affectionate bop.

‘You?’ he questions. 

Tess turns and steps in between his legs, she has an achingly shy look on her face and everything slows down as she reaches a hand up to his cheek, the other settling on his hip. He tries to remember every detail as it happens, this beautiful woman in front of him drawing his mouth down to hers and her murmuring ‘I really, really hope it’s this part’. 

Her lips are so warm and soft. It’s like being wrapped up in everything good thing in the world. He wants to live in this exact moment forever. The newness, the goodness, the ‘Tessa-ness’ of it all. He’s never been kissed like this. And he’s never kissed someone like this. It’s just him and Tess, melting into one another. 

‘There is nowhere else in the world I’d rather be than kissing you by this river,’ he says against her forehead when they break for air. 

‘Really?’ she blinks.

‘Oh, Tee,’ he kisses both her cheeks, ‘I’ve had this exact fantasy since 2017. And I mean kissing you after a stroll along the St. Lawrence. This exact fantasy’.

The way she laughs a genuine and joyful laugh soothes any rough edges left in his heart. She wraps her arms around his neck and burrows into him.

‘I don’t want to be friends anymore,’ she whispers in his ear. ‘I don’t want to not be with you one more day’.

‘Then don’t,’ he says before kissing her again.

*

The amount of times they’ve stopped to make out on the street during the walk from the river to her hotel is embarrassing. If she’d witnessed another couple carrying on like this in public she’d be straight on the phone to Jordan making fun of them. It’s not slutty behaviour, it’s just incredibly mushy. But she’s sure as hell hoping the slutty is coming once they get up to her room. She’s also grateful that the St. Paul had a room for this evening. Even if it was their most expensive suite.

In their defence, it hasn’t all been kissing, it’s been a lot of smiling and laughing and ‘I thought this might be weird, but it just feels right’. 

Thank God. 

When they get to her hotel Scott kisses her gently and takes a step back.

‘You’re coming up, right?’ she smiles.

He shakes his head. 

She must look crestfallen because he immediately steps forward and gathers her in his arms. 

‘Don’t you want to?’ she’s checks in.

‘Fuck, Tee,’ he rolls his eyes, ‘I want to. More than you know’.

‘So come up,’ she toys with his fingers. They’ve known each other their whole lives, this is not a one night stand, what are they waiting for? 

‘I don’t think we should. We only kissed for the first time sixty minutes ago. I don’t want you to regret us rushing anything’. 

She’s a little taken aback. She doesn’t need protecting. Most certainly not from Scott. 

‘I’m a thirty-one year old woman who is able to make my own decisions. If you don’t want to come up, I completely support and respect that decision, But if you do, I need you to know your chivalry is misplaced’. 

She steps right into his space and the way he sucks in his breath gives her a thrill. She puts her mouth right up to his cheek, ‘If you want to come up I promise it will be worth your while’.

An unrecognisable look flashes across Scott’s face before he shakes his head and gives her a wicked smile, ‘You won’t be able to undo this in the morning’.

‘I’m perfectly fine with that’.

‘You’re trouble,’ he kisses her gently, ‘Get your ass inside the hotel’.

‘Are you coming?’ she sasses. 

‘I sure hope so,’ he sasses right back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope it was worth the wait 💕


	10. The Suite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our heroes finally get it on.
> 
> That’s it.
> 
> That’s the summary.
> 
> But it’s very sweet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thanks to those people still reading this one. 
> 
> Sheesh. This chapter was hard. Hopefully, I did it justice 😉

June 2020 - Two minutes later

The way Scott places his hand on the small of her back, as they wind their way through the hotel lobby, makes her shiver. It makes him chuckle in a low, magnetic way that she’s never heard before. He’s had his hand on her back almost every time he’s ever seen her. But this time is different. She’s in love with him. 

‘Didn’t we come here once with Madi and Zach?’ he peers across the dimly lit restaurant and bar.

‘Yes,’ she hums, ‘it was when we first came to Montreal. Zach wouldn’t shut up about knitting as a stress relieving activity. We couldn’t work out if he was serious or not’. 

‘Well, we got our answer at Christmas. When he gave us those atrocious scarves,’ Scott snorts.

‘They were cute. We matched,’ she pouts.

By this stage they’ve arrived at the elevator and she reaches into her jeans to get her room card. Scott seizes it from her fingers before she has a chance to tap the reader that will give them access to her floor.

‘I’m nervous,’ he states firmly. He looks her directly in the eye and has a super serious look in his face. 

‘Good nervous or bad nervous?’ she asks, her stomach churning. If he says bad nervous she’ll need to use an extreme amount of willpower to prevent herself from fleeing the hotel in mortification.

The elevator door closes just as Scott reaches to swipes the room card and he nods his head towards to panel of buttons to indicate she should select her floor. She selects the eleventh floor and almost sighs in relief. 

He takes a quick step towards the rear of the elevator car. He moves to stand at her back and wraps both his arms around her from behind. Sliding his hands into the front pockets of her jeans, he slowly pulls her hips back towards him so she’s flush against his body. This kind of closeness, off the ice and out of the dance studio, is both old and new at the same time. Immediately her right arm flies up and snakes around his neck. With his fingers deep in her pockets and dancing close to the apex of her thighs he slides his lips up her neck, ‘Excellently nervous’.

The elevator doors glide open as she begins to grind her hips against Scott and they have to untangle themselves from each other and find a semblance of propriety before they can move forward. 

‘All good?’ he asks in a very chipper voice as they make their way along the hallway. 

‘Indeed,’ she wraps an arm low around his waist, squeezing him to her side. He kisses her head and coils an arm around her shoulder. She can feel her serotonin rise as the distance to her room decreases.

‘Room number?’ 

‘1169’ she winks.

Scott comes to an abrupt stop.

‘Did you, did you just make a sex joke?’ he stammers.

‘Oh, for fucks sake, keep walking’ she laughs. 

He quickly glances up and down the hallway. No one else is around. He manoeuvres her against the wall and kisses her. They’ve done a decent amount of kissing this evening, but this is on a whole other level, it’s hungry and passionate and full of want. It’s phenomenal. 

‘I want to put my mouth on every part of your body,’ he smiles as he pulls away. It’s a genuine smile, part adoration, part happiness and part filthy enthusiasm.

‘I think I just forgot how to do it,’ she laughs.

Scott laughs back. It’s a line from The Big Chill, a movie they’ve watched countless times together. 

‘There seems to be some parts of you that remember,’ he gently runs his finger over her t-shirt, both of them looking down to watch him trace around her erect nipple. When they look up each other he gives her a wink and soft kiss to her cheek.

‘Come on. Enough of carrying on like lunatics in the hallway,’ Scott teases.

*

‘Tee, this is impressive, even for you,’ he whistles when they get into Tessa’s hotel room.

They’re standing in the suite’s lounge room. Charcoal coloured walls and white timber shutters frame double height windows. A purple velvet couch and a green velvet armchair sit upon the polished concrete floor. A huge distressed timber coffee table sits in the centre of the room. There’s a dining suite with a low hanging light feature to the left and under the window sits a stark cream sideboard holding a silver tray with a cut-crystal decanter full of Scotch. It’s not his style but he can appreciate the effort put in by the interior designers.

‘It’s the only room they had left,’ Tess shrugs.

‘When did you book? This must be costing a bomb. There weren’t other hotels?’

Tess gets a sheepish look on her face and confesses, ‘At about 3pm this afternoon. After I told you I was staying here’.

‘What? Why?’

‘I wasn’t thinking ahead. I booked my flight straight after reading your letter but I forgot to book a hotel. When you asked me where I was saying this is the first place a that came to mind?’ Tess comes to stand by his side.

He’s glad she brought up the letter, he seizes the opportunity to talk about it. 

‘When you didn’t respond to the letter, I was kinda worried,’ he confesses, turning to face her and running his fingers into her hair.

‘I had a lot to think about,’ Tess leans forward to encircle his waist and kiss him. It’s a chaste kiss, just once, on his mouth. 

‘Yeah?’ he kisses her back, slow and hot, nowhere near as sweet as the way she kissed him.

Tess runs her hands under his shirt before sliding her hands into his jeans pocket in a sneaky nod to his behaviour in the elevator, ‘But not anymore. I know what I want. Right here. This is where I want to be. Always’.

He loves hearing her say that.

‘This is where I want you too,’ he smiles.

‘Night cap?’ Tee suggests. ‘That looks like good Scotch’.

‘You know I never say no to a good Scotch’.

Tess pours them each a finger and holds out a glass in his direction. The crystal is surprisingly heavy in his hand. The room is dimly lit and Tess kicks off her shoes before taking his hand and leading him to the couch. For a moment he thinks she’s going to sit at the opposite end of the couch, but she settles next to him, snuggling into his side and placing her feet on the coffee table.

‘Full disclosure?’ her green eyes peer up at him from under her eyelashes. 

‘Always,’ he takes a drink of his Scotch, a little nervous to see where this is going.

‘I was so desperate for this to happen tonight that I bought a packet of condoms on my way to dinner hoping I could conjure up this exact scenario’.

He’s silent for a few seconds then reaches into his pocket to produce three condoms, ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about Tee, that sounds like a batshit crazy thing to do’.

They look at each other for a moment and crack up laughing. He kisses her while she laughs and she makes the most contented sigh into his mouth. Their future flashes before his eyes - laughing and fighting and babies and skating. It’s spectacular.

Tess takes their glasses and places them on the coffee table. She climbs onto his lap and runs her fingernails across his temples and into his hair. How does she know he loves that? 

‘Penny for your thoughts?’ she asks as she leans down to kiss him.

‘I don’t want this evening to end’.

‘We haven’t even got to the good part,’ Tess winks as she slowly strips off her t-shirt, her bra is low-cut with sinful black lace. ‘But we’re about to’.

*

Earlier in the evening she’d thought she would be nervous having sex with Scott for the first time. But she’s not. And neither is he, despite his earlier protestations. Now that they’re actually getting to the no-clothes part she is laser focused on the way he’s making her feel. Which is very, very, very good. There’s been so much kissing and wandering hands that time seems a little muddled. She’s not really sure how long they’re been at it.

‘Do you want to take this to the bedroom?’ she murmurs against his neck. His head is stretched over to one side, giving her as much access the his neck as physically possible, the tendons taut where she’s sucking her way up towards his ear. 

‘Don’t you dare move,’ he husks, ‘stay exactly where you are’. He grips her hips hard, as if to emphasise his point, she can feel him hard beneath her and it gives her a thrill that she can make him respond to her body in this way.

At this point they’ve both shed their clothes and she’s straddling his lap in her underwear, there is a teeny bit of lace and the cotton of his boxers separating them. 

The friction is so delicious she’s reticent for it to end, but she also wants to know what’s like to have Scott slide deep inside her. She’s so ready for him but she’s enjoying the here and now, his fingers guiding her hips and his mouth making its way up and down her décolletage.

‘Get a condom please,’ she instructs. 

He looks up and raises his eyebrows in confirmation.

‘I don’t want to wait one more minute,’ she shimmies backwards on his lap a little and reaches into his boxers, removing his cock. He’s so hard and warm and the sound he makes as she scratches over his frenulum is like none she’s ever heard him make.

She stands up to give him room to arrange the condom and takes off her bra. Just as she’s starting to wiggle out of her underwear he grabs her hand. ‘Nope, I wanna to do that,’ he stares. 

He’s still sitting as he reaches around to palm her ass while kissing the lace covering her mons, then he inches her underwear down her legs. She attempts to resettle on his lap but he’s not having it, ‘Stay exactly where you are please’.

She knows what’s next and sends up a super quick prayer that he’s going to be good at this. Please, please, please don’t let the ‘Scott sucks at eating her out’ dream be prophetic.

She needn’t have worried. 

Holy shit. 

Holiest of holy shits.

It’s lips and tongue and fingers in all the right places. She comes while looking up at the ceiling, her hands fisted beside her thighs and her heart full. 

It’s magnificent.

*

Really, he had never understood the term ‘painfully hard’ but his cock is so fucking rigid it’s aching and he’s worried he’s going to crumble in a literal hot mess if they don’t slow down a bit. 

And he hasn’t even gotten inside Tee yet.

‘I had a dream you were terrible at that,’ she pants as she climbs back into his lap. She’s completely naked now and he wants to continue making good on his promise to put his mouth on every inch of her. 

‘What?’ 

‘I had a dream that you went down on me and it was terrible’.

He must look shocked because she moves her mouth right up to his ear and whispers, ‘I can assure you that you are not terrible at that’. 

He kisses Tess while his hands tease her nipples and her cunt teases the tip of his cock. 

‘Scott,’ she speaks softly. He meets her gaze and her expression is so vulnerable and sincere he’s compelled to affectionately run his finger down her cheek. He’s so damn thankful to be here with a naked Tessa. This is the last time he’s going fuck someone for the first time. 

‘Scott,’ she says again, still sincere and her voice a little shaky, ‘I’m so in love with you’.

His heart stops in chest. Skipping a beat. He says the only thing he can. 

The truth.

‘Me too, Darlin’. I’m in love with you too’.

Her smile blooms across her face, it’s soft and sweet and a little shy. That is until she gets a wicked look in eyes and moves her mouth to his ear again, ‘I’m going to blow you mind,’ she whispers as his cock disappears inside her.

*

‘Fuck,’ Scott moans. Actually moans in pleasure, as she settles right down in his lap. Once he’s seated deep inside her, she stops and exhales. They look each other and grin. 

‘What is that? I’ve never seen that expression on your face before’ Scott asks.

‘That’s my ‘I’m enjoying getting fucked’ expression,’ Tess quips.

‘Is that so?’ he plays along.

‘Hmmm,’ Tess slowly moves her hips. He brings his hands to grab her ass, encouraging her to move a little more.

‘I suspect we are going to be very, very good at this,’ he winks. 

Tess laughs. 

My God, how can she be so sexy and adorable at the same time. 

‘You called me Darlin’ before,’ she moves her hips a little faster, puts a little more depth into her movement.

‘I did,’ he says with a mouthful of nipple, ‘you don’t like it?’

‘I like it very much,’ she sighs. 

He can tell Tess is enjoying what they’re doing but he thinks if she leans forward a little more it’ll be a better angle for her because her clit would be hard up against his pubic bone.

He slides down on the couch a little, ‘Tee, just lean...’ he starts as Tess intuitively shifts her body weight forward. 

‘Oh,’ she bites her lip, ‘that’s the spot’.

The way Tess is leaning towards him means her tits are right in his face. Her retirement boobs are perfection. Pert and pink. He sucks a nipple and he feels her muscles clamp down on his cock. 

Their fucking builds to crescendo. Kisses and hands playing the perfect supporting role to her pussy and his cock. It’s not frantic, it’s like the perfect dance, controlled and generous and about as good as it gets the very first time with a new partner.

He’s got a handful of her ass and a hand around the back of her neck when Tess flashes open her eyes to announce she about to come.

Watching her chest heave as she rides out her orgasm is his undoing. A droplet of perspiration runs between her perfect breasts and he licks between her tits as both his hands grab her waist, holding her still while thrusting into her slowly and deeply. 

He collapses against the couch, momentarily feeling sorry for whomever sits on it tomorrow. 

‘We’re gonna have to do that again to make sure it’s wasn’t a fluke,’ Tessa puffs.

‘It’s only fair,’ he concurs, grabbing their Scotch glasses from the table and passing her one, ‘But first, a drink and a shower’.

*

‘I don’t think this is going to work,’ is the first thing Scott says to her the next morning.

She’s woken with her head on his chest, despite her late night explanation that he shouldn’t be offended that she’s not cuddly when she sleeps.

‘No?’ she queries while he plays with her hair.

‘You squish up the top sheet into a ball and push it to the foot of the bed. It’s an integral part of the bed. I never knew you were one of those people’

‘What kind of people?’ she scoffs.

‘The idiots who think a top sheet is redundant,’ Scott pokes her side. 

She rolls off his chest and turns to lay on her stomach, reaching up to quickly kiss his mouth. ‘That’s so sad, because I thought the physical side of this relationship had real potential’.

He pulls a ‘maybe’ kinda face before laughing out loud. ‘You know what else is redundant?’

‘Pants in bed?’ she suggests.

‘Exactly,’ Scott smiles as he slips his hand into her pyjama pants. She pulls him on top of her, letting him slide between her legs.

‘I’m never going to stop wanting to do this with you,’ she confesses between kisses. She rolls her hips and she can feel him  
already hard.

‘When you move like that I don’t ever want to leave this bed,’ Scott sighs. 

She thinks of all the ways she could respond - I love you - Let’s run away together - Let’s tell our families we finally came to our senses - Please let this be forever - I love the way you make me feel.

But in the end, the thing that fits best is something he said to her yesterday. It was something simple that summed up all his feelings for her. And it wraps up her feelings for him too.

‘Then don’t,’ she breathes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think?


End file.
